Santa's Secret
by 8D SerenityCrystal Tear 83
Summary: Because of Reggie's persistance, Paul finds himself home for his most hated holiday, Christmas, only to find Troublesome there as well. His visit takes an even worser turn when vivid images of a Christmas he's tried so hard to forget flashes through his mind . . . all because of that annoying coordinator! *Eventual Ikari friendship. Rated T just in case*


_Yee~! My first Christmas one-shot! I've actually been meaning to post this two years ago, when I first got the plot idea, but got caught in writer's block. So two years later, I finally pushed that stupid block away! XD_

_Anyway. This was originally supposed to be an Ikarishipping one-shot (not that I like Dawn, but I find it's an easy pairing for me to write), but the way it was going, I couldn't add the romance and it instead turned to a building friendship. But who knows? Maybe there'll be romance in their future after all? Hehe._

_This turned out WAY longer than I planned. 7,841 words. The longest I've ever written for one chapter! But I worked really hard on it and tried my best to keep everyone in character - with the exception of Reggie. Not that I_ think_ he's OOC, but I've never watched the episodes he was in besides when Paul challenged Brandon, so I don't know much about him. I really do hope I've written him well enough._

_Anyway, though Ikari might not be here romantically, I hope you find the sprout of friendship satisfying. . . . I guess I'll shut up now, so you guys can read (if you didn't already skip this anyway. . . .)_

**DISCLAIMER:**_ I do NOT own Pokemon or Santa Clause!_

* * *

_Santa's Secret_

* * *

It was a beautiful evening in Veilstone City. All the buildings were decorated with an assortment of Christmas accessories; mostly bright singing lights for businesses, and statues, blowups, colorful lights, and other things for houses. A crisp layer of glistening snow covered the ground where grass and dirt was once visible, while all the streets and walkways of homes were covered in salt. Every business was bright and welcoming. It was impossible to turn a corner and _not _see people laughing, smiling, or even drinking a nice, hot cup of cocoa in the busy streets! Christmas was truly the prime example of a happy holiday full of love and joy.

Well . . . that's what most people in Sinnoh would say, anyway – in fact, all, but one. A sixteen-year-old boy known as Paul trudged through the crowds with an annoyed and irritated invisible aura surrounding him. The aura thickened every time he was bumped into by people who just so happened to decide to bother _him _and not any of the _other countless _people around him!

Paul's patience dropped dramatically with every step he took through his hometown. For a moment, he asked himself if going through all this trouble just to visit his brother – whom he hasn't seen in quite a while – was really worth it, when he could be doing something a lot more important like training his Torterra for the Unova League next year; but he reluctantly dismissed the thought when he remembered how Reggie got him to come in the first place. . . .

"_Paul, wait!" the cheerful nurse of the Pokémon Center in Canalave City called. The boy stopped in his tracks and turned back halfway with the ever present scowl on his face, waiting to be informed the meaning of suddenly postponing his journey to Snowpoint City. "You have a call," Nurse Joy explained, smiling as always. "And he says, 'It can't wait!'"_

_The dull lavender-haired boy showed no hint of emotion other than annoyance. With a silent sigh, Paul nodded his head. "Thank you," he muttered before walking back into the Pokémon Center._

_He walked up to one of the video boxes and seconds later, his older brother appeared on the screen, grinning widely. "Hey, Paul!"_

"_Nurse Joy said this was important, what is it?"_

_Reggie pouted mockingly. "Is that any way to greet your favorite brother who you haven't seen in almost a year!?"_

_Paul's scowl deepened. "You're my _only _brother, and I saw you last wee – "_

"_I mean in person!" Reggie cut in. "Not when you're sending me your Pokémon!"_

"_What. Do. You. Want?" was the reply in a muttered growl._

_His brother chuckled. "All right, all right. Sorry. Anyway, I called because I had a great idea!"_

"_Congratulations," Paul said unenthusiastically, and moved to hang up._

"_Wait a sec! I wasn't finished!"_

"_Well, hurry up. I should've been halfway to Jubilife City by now."_

"_Fine. I was just thinking, 'When was the last time I spent the holiday season with my little brother?' I kept on pondering until I realized it was just about six years ago!"_

" _. . . No!" Paul hissed through gritted teeth._

"_Oh, come on, Paul! It's been years! It's awfully lonely on Christmas and I miss having my little bro around."_

"_Well, deal with it, because I'm not coming home." He made another move to hang up, but just when his index finger brushed the button, Reggie stopped him._

"_I bet Mom would want you too!" This made the boy freeze. It's been nine years since either of them had spoken of her. She was never consciously swimming in his thoughts around this time of year, but Paul could always feel the dread and heavy weight in his body as if she were. Seeing this brief reaction, Reggie continued. "Remember how much Mom loved Christmas? How she would always be smiling and laughing when we were all together decorating the tree, baking cookies, or sitting by the fireplace drinking hot chocolate? And how she would randomly start sing Christmas carols around the house?"_

_Paul didn't answer, but his hand remained on the button. Reggie took a silent deep breath. "I know you were really young back then, but do you remember how every year, she'd wish for the same thing?" He paused, waiting to see Paul's reaction. The teenager's dark eyes narrowed a bit before shifting downward ever-so-slightly. Reggie took this as a 'yes,' so he decided not to say it aloud._

_Silence washed over the two for some short moments as Reggie waited for his brother's response. Finally, Paul sighed softly and shut his eyes fairly tightly. " . . . Fine," he murmured, the reply sounding strained. "I . . . I'll come home – but only this once!" he added quickly. On the video screen, Reggie's face could be seen lighting up with joy and a hint of triumph before Paul finally hung up the phone._

And now here he was, walking in the streets of Veilstone City to spend Christmas with his older brother. The second realization hit him about what he had agreed to, he regretted it, but there was no way of getting out of it. "Damn him," Paul growled under his breath, "playing the 'Mom Card' on me. . . ." He brought his jacket collar closer as a cold breeze blew in his face.

Soon, he passed the busy area of last minute Christmas shoppers, and was now in a more open and quiet part of town: his neighborhood. He purposely slowed his pace even more than it already was, though his house was only meters away. . . . The home filled with so many unwanted memories. . . .

He huffed a harsh breath. _Just get it over with_, he told himself. _It's only for a day._ As he walked up the concrete steps to his house, Paul started thinking the slightest bit better about the situation._ The only thing that could be worse right now is spending Christmas with Reggie _and_ Ash._ He smirked at that before reaching for the door handle. However, just as his hand was about to grasp it, the handle turned and moved inward, away from his hand.

The thought of his brother waiting for him by the door crossed his mind, but it was immediately thrown out the window when he heard a very perky and projected voice giggle, then say, "Thanks for the tip, Reggie! I'll keep that in mind. See you tomorro – Whoa!" The sentence was abruptly cut off by the owner crashing into Paul. They both fell off the concrete steps and onto the snow-covered ground; Paul on his back, and the girl on top of him. "Ow. . . . "

Paul murmured uncomprehensible words under his breath as he tried sitting up. He opened one eye, then the other and automatically his scowl deepened harshly. "Never mind," he said to himself. "_This _is a worse case scenario."

"Huh?" The blunette looked up. "Paul!?" Dawn gasped, her eyes wide. "What are you doing here!?"

"I _live _here. Now get off me!" With that, Paul took it upon himself to shove the girl off and into the fairly large pile of snow beside them.

"H-H-H-Hey!" Dawn managed to get out when she sat up. She shivered violently. "There's no need to be rude, you know!" Her only response was Paul standing up and brushing the little flecks of frozen water off his thick blue-brown coat. When he didn't reply, she said, "I deserve an _apology_!"

Paul paused in his action to glance at her briefly. She was still on her knees in the snow with her arms wrapped around her – probably too cold to move, he presumed. He mentally shrugged. She could only blame herself for wearing a thick coat with no pants. Stupid girl. "_You're _the one who fell on top of me," he stated matter-of-factly; then turned to Reggie who was standing in the doorway awkwardly this whole time waiting to see when to intervene. "Why is _she_ here?" Paul demanded, arms crossed over his chest. Just what he needed to make this visit a living hell: Troublesome.

Reggie took this opportunity to go help Dawn out of the snow. "I bumped into her earlier and invited her here."

"And why would you do that?"

"Because she's our friend!" He grinned and started guiding Dawn back toward the house.

Paul didn't react right away. He was momentarily stunned by the fact his brother thought he was friends with someone as annoying, clumsy, and dense as Troublesome. That was _practically _an insult! Before he could recover and reply with some snappy remark, Reggie and Dawn had already disappeared into the three-story house. Annoyed, he started to go in as well, but something in the snow caught his dark eyes.

By the steps, slightly covered with snow, was a box. When he picked it up, Paul could easily tell it was old, probably no more than ten years or so. The question of how it got there crossed his mind, then figured it was Troublesome's. It must have fallen out her hands when she crashed into him. Out of curiosity, Paul shook the box, but only felt a light response in return. Thinking it was probably some flimsy costume for those trainer-insulting _contests _– he inwardly winced at the thought – Paul resumed up the steps, into the house, and closed the door behind him.

Paul set the box on the desk by the front entrance, then continued his way to the stairs. "Hey, Paul!" Reggie emerged from the livingroom, grinning ear to ear. "Want to decorate the tree with me?"

"Didn't you already do that? It's Christmas Eve for Arceus' sake!"

Reggie blinked. "Of course I didn't; I was waiting for you! Then we could sing Christmas carols and watch a marathon of movies like we used to!"

Paul could only stared at his brother. "No, thanks," was all he said, not having the energy to voice out his real thoughts on the matter. With that, he marched up the carpeted stairs.

"Paul?" He mentally cursed as he paused in mid-step. "Why don't you come in here and spend time with Reggie?" Paul could hear the struggle Dawn was going through to keep the anger out of her tone.

"Who are you to tell me that?"

"It's Christmas Eve! You should be spending it with your family!"

"Then why are _you _here?" Paul twisted his upper body slightly, just enough to get a good look at the eleven-year-old. "This isn't even any of your business. Don't try to act like my _mother_." He fixed her with a harsh glare, then stormed up the stairs, down the hall, and into his room.

Dawn was left speechless. Not necessarily insulted, but just a little hurt from just trying to help. More than that, she was angry at Paul and sympathetic towards Reggie, who was patting her shoulder apologetically. "Don't worry about him, Dawn," he said. "Paul's not . . . very fond of Christmas. It's understandable – "

"No, it's not!" Dawn interrupted, turning to face the older man. "How can someone not love Christmas!? Everyone does!"

Reggie scratched the back of his head, perspiration beginning to dot along his hairline and temples. Some time passed as he debated with himself while under the pleading and disbelief eyes of the blunette, but finally, he said, "Well, you see . . . "

* * *

It was strange how, as soon as he sat on his bed, a wave of sleep washed over him, making Paul lay back and have the urge to sigh in contentment. Even when he sometimes stayed at the Pokémon Center, the beds never felt this good; they'd just make him wish the next day would come sooner for more training.

_Training. . . ._ Paul turned his head to see the electronic clock on his night stand, it read 7:04 P.M.; then he looked out the window to see the snow was just starting to pick up. _I'll wait later, when the storm's harsher,_ he decided, settling back into the pillow with his hands behind his head. _Ten should be good_, was his thought. He let his eyes fully close with only the tiniest bit of resistance, and drifted off into unconsciousness. . . .

* * *

"_Reggie, where did Paul go?"_

_The twelve-year-old peeked out from behind the lush green tree, pausing in placing the last few ornaments near the top. He glanced sideways briefly, then shrugged. "He was here a minute ago."_

"_Hmm. . . . " The woman tapped her chin repeatedly for a moment while rolling her eyes upward, then walked straight into the kitchen. Even before fully entering from the arch-like doorway, she had a clear view of a five-year-old boy standing on top of a small box, on his tiptoes, and reaching for the jar of cookies on the counter top. "Paul!" she barked, causing the boy to flinch slightly. "Just what do you think you're doing?"_

_Paul slowly turned around with a rather bored expression on his small, slightly pudgy face. His dark eyes were fixed in what appeared to be a glare, but to people whom _really _knew him (i.e. Reggie and his mother), that was just an expression of his constant boredom. Paul looked up at his mother, Twilight. She was a very tall woman with navy blue hair that almost reached her slim waist. She stared at Paul with large, expressive dark purple eyes, awaiting a sad attempt at an excuse. Instead, however, she got the truth. "Well, I _thought _I was getting a cookie," Paul replied, shrugging at the obvious._

_She rolled her eyes at that, smirking all the while. "But Paul, those are for Santa, remember? You don't want him to stay hungry when he comes here and finds out there's no cookies, do you?"_

_Paul raised a thin eyebrow. "Why save cookies for someone who doesn't even exist?"_

_Twilight blinked. "What gave you that idea?"_

_It was Paul's turn to roll his eyes, but no light-heartedness was detectable. "Come on, Mom. I know all about it. Santa is just some imaginary fat guy who loves wearing red and eating cookies while giving gifts to kids. Who'd make up something so stupid?"_

_Twilight wondered – not for the first time – how her five-year-old little boy could be so blunt and sarcastic while other children his age normally were not? She shrugged the question off and bent low on her tiptoes, gesturing for Paul to come to her. When he obediently did so, she placed her hands on his shoulders. "You're absolutely right, Paul; there _is _no such thing as a man decked out in red, delivering presents to children around the world in one night."_

_Paul stood up straighter, the edge of his lips twitching in a triumphant smirk; but then his mother leaned in closer. "But Santa Claus _does_, in _fact_, exist." She pulled away slightly, smirking when she saw the dumbfounded look on Paul's sweet face._

"_B-Bu-But . . . didn't you just sa – "_

"_I said there was no such thing as a _man in red giving out gifts_," she corrected. "I didn't say _anything _about _Santa _being a figment of the imagination."_

_Paul continued his somewhat wide-eyed stare. "Then . . . how?"_

_Twilight put a finger to her lips. "Ah-ah! That's a secret!" She winked. "You'll figure it out when you grow up and have kids."_

_Paul instantly pulled on a sour expression. "I guess I'll never find out then." He blew his fairly long bangs out of his eyes. Twilight copied him mockingly, doing the same to her double side-swept bangs, before messing up his hair and pulling him in for a raspberry kiss on the cheek._

* * *

Paul's eyes shot open and he sat up in bed, panting heavily. He gritted his teeth while clenching the fist that was resting on his bent knee. After a few seconds of catching his breath, Paul frowned, remembering the dream – or more appropriately, the memory. He shook his head, making his lavender locks sway in the movement.

Soon, he sighed and glanced at the clock; 11:30 P.M., thirty minutes till Christmas Day. Paul got up, grabbed his coat, then headed out the door, intending to make up the lost time he should've been spending on training.

As he got off the bottom step of the stairs and headed through the short hallway, Paul noticed colorful, blinking lights in the corner of the living room, and white lights along the hinge of the ceiling and doors. _Hmph_, he thought. _Looks like Reggie actually put the lights up after all._ Just as he was about to fully pass the arched doorway of the living room, he saw a speck of movement come from the sofa. Pausing to get a better look, Paul was somewhat surprised to see Dawn sitting there, looking down at something he couldn't see. He rolled his eyes. _Reggie . . . !_

Paul shook his head and proceeded to the front door. He swore under his breath for the second time that night when a quiet, drowsy voice squeaked, "Paul? Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Where?"

"Somewhere."

"To do what?"

"To train." Paul felt as if a vein was pulsing just underneath the skin of his temples.

"In this weather!?"

"What are you even still doing here!?" Paul snapped, finally turning his head to look at Dawn. She was wearing pink pajamas with white frills and Buneary slippers; her midnight-blue hair was out of its usual ponytail and gold barrettes and hung loosely passed her shoulders. Her usually expressive blue eyes were now quite dull with grogginess. "Shouldn't you have been gone by now, Troublesome?"

The blunette was trying to stifle a yawn when Paul had spoken, but now she abruptly stopped what she was doing and turned a fierce glare at the sixteen-year-old. "We have known each other for a whole year and you _still _can't remember my name!? It's not 'Troublesome', it's Dawn! Dawn! D-A-W-N! Dawn! Dawn! _Dawn_! Get it through your incredibly thick head already!" she yelled, all traces of drowsiness vanished.

Paul, however, had already turned around with his hand on the door handle. "H-Hey! Don't ignore me!" He paid her no mind, turning the handle. "Paul . . . !" He opened the door, allowing the harsh, freezing wind to blow into the house. "Paul! . . . Paul, wait!" He stepped through the doorway, collar raised to shield his face, and hands in his pockets. "I said, wait! Paul, listen to me!" He stepped out of the house, down the short stone stairs, and onto the salted walkway.

As he headed down the stone path, the annoying whining of Dawn had finally ceased, much to Paul's relief. All of a sudden, he felt a hand grab his upper arm from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to see the blunette, shivering like a Snorunt, but gazing at him with pleading eyes. "Please, Paul! Just wait for a second before you go off to train."

Though he was momentarily surprised that _Troublesome _would say 'please' to _him _for _anything_, Paul still managed a gruff, "And why should I?"

"Just wait! I'll only be a second!" With that, she ran back into the house as fast as her shivering legs and slippery Buneary slippers would allow her. Normally Paul would just up and leave regardless of a specific request not to, but he stayed, this time; curiosity out shining any sense of kindness or sympathy that had entered his body, no matter how brief it was. Very few seconds had passed when Dawn reappeared again, this time wearing her pink coat and scarf over her pajamas, and a small box in her hands; Paul recognized it as the one he picked up earlier. "Paul, here." Dawn glanced down at her slippers, both embarrassed and nervous. "Sorry. I didn't have time to wrap it, but I hope you like it anyway!" She held out the box to him, trying her best to give him a solid smile.

Paul could only stare at the box in the eleven-year-old girl's hands. A present? . . . For _him_? And from Troublesome, no less! Sure, he was expecting Reggie to be giving him something for Christmas, but this was a surprise. Just as he began to reach for it, a thought came to mind. "This isn't something for those _contests _– " he said it as if it was a bad word! " – is it?"

Dawn gasped. "Of course not! Why would I give you something like that!?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't have been surprised," he said simply, taking the object from the girl's hands.

As he began lifting the top, Dawn said, "And just for your information, this is actually something you already own; I only fixed it up, because it looked like something important to you."

Paul raised a brow at that. _What would I have that's apparently old and 'precious' to me?_ He finally lifted the top all the way, but almost dropped the box at the sight of the gift.

An old and worn out Turtwig doll lay in the box; faded with age and very faint, permanent stains evident. The holes, rips, and lost stuffing had been newly fixed, Paul noticed, since the last time he saw the doll, around seven years old.

Paul gritted his teeth as his grip tightened on both the box and the top. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the painful memories from playing in his mind.

_Reggie covered his mouth as he yawned, tears appearing at the edges of his eyes. "I take that as an 'it's time to head to bed' sign?" Twilight asked beside him on the fluffy couch, patting the sleeping Paul's hair as he slept with his head on her lap._

_Reggie chuckled lightly, scratching his cheek. "Yeah, I guess." He stood up and took Paul in his arms. "'Night, Mom. Merry Christmas!"_

"_Merry Christmas, Reggie. Good night!" Twilight smiled as Reggie walked out of the living room into the hallway. She could hear his retreating footsteps as he headed up the stairs. Twilight glanced at the wall clock next to the fireplace, 11:40 P.M., she nodded to herself. As soon as she was sure both her sons were in bed, Twilight got up, left the living room, and went to the attic._

_Little did she know, after Reggie had put his younger brother to bed and proceeded to his own room across the hall, Paul sat up, determination written on his face. He wiped the sleep from his eyes quickly and jumped out of his bed, stumbling slightly. Paul checked his bedside table clock, 11:43 P.M._

_The little boy reached into the trunk on the other side of the room, and soon found the small camera inside. With a mischievous grin in the form of a smirk, Paul ran to the door and, with a peek both ways to make sure Twilight or Reggie wasn't there, left the room. He closed the door as quietly as he could, then tiptoed pass Reggie's room, then his mother's, and made it to the stairs._

_He silently descended until he was in the hallway. Paul pressed himself against the wall and proceeded on his tiptoes to the arch doorway of the living room. Once he was just beside the entrance, Paul looked at the time on the wall clock in the kitchen, which was just opposite of the living room; 11:45 P.M._

Okay!_ Paul smirked to himself. _It's time to see who this 'Santa Clause' really is!_ He twisted his head to look over his shoulder while leaning to the side a little, just enough to peek into the living room without being noticed. Glancing at the clock anxiously, Paul slowly raised the camera, prepared to shoot._

_Seconds passed for so long, Paul was beginning to think it already passed midnight and that Santa really didn't exist; but just as he was about to check the clock again, he spotted movement by the tree. He leaned in farther, squinting through the darkness; the tree and lights hanging on all the hinges were the only sources of light._

_Then it happened! Paul caught a glimpse of a present being placed down on the blanket beneath the tree by shadowy hands. Several other presents were placed down seconds later, and though the urge of quietly going over was a large one, Paul forced himself to stay where he was. That door was the only way out of the living room, besides the windows, so the mysterious figure had no where to go without being in Paul's sight. Soon enough, the figure stood on it's feet, giggling. _Where have I heard that sound before? _Paul wondered._

_The figure giggled again. "I'm looking forward to seeing Paul's face when he sees his gift!" it whispered to itself before giving a soft cough._

_Paul froze in place, his dark eyes wide. _Mom!? Mom is Santa?_ He slowly lowered the camera in his hands. _But . . . how?_ Paul looked to the shadowy shape of his mother again. She had a hand to her chest which Paul assumed was because she was giggling so hard. He heard another cough, this time a little rougher. Thinking it was the sign she usually used to let him know she knew of his presence, Paul sighed and stepped fully into the archway door. "Mom?"_

_Twilight snapped her head around toward the doorway, her heart racing faster than it probably should have been. "Paul!?" Her shoulders relaxed instantly when she saw him standing there, but her heart wouldn't stop pounding against her chest. "What are you doing down here? You're suppose to be in bed, asleep."_

_Paul raised a brow. Didn't she already know he was there? He shrugged it off and took a few steps forward. "How can I when somebody is suppose to be down here delivering presents?" He paused, glancing at the foot of the Christmas tree, then back up to his mother's face. "Right, _Santa_?"_

_Twilight's purple eyes widened slightly, then, after going over every possible excuse for this situation, she sighed – which came out as more of a rough cough – and smiled. "You caught me!" She giggled quite awkwardly, Paul thought, as she scratched the back of her head. "I should have been expecting you to be looking out for 'Santa; all kids do." She sighed heavily. "I really should pay more attention sometimes. . . . " She knocked on her head lightly as if to emphasize the statement; Paul continued to stare at her blankly. Twilight rolled her eyes, then surprised her son by picking him up in one smooth-but-swift manner and plopping down on the comfy, white sofa._

_Paul waited for her to say something, but she didn't, only staring off into some distant place. More coughs erupted from her throat a few minutes into the silence, and Paul's eyes turned from a blank puzzlement, to one of concern. "Are you okay, Mom?"_

_Twilight coughed once more, then smiled down at the boy. "Yes. . . . " it came out as a whisper. "I think it's that ice cream coming back to haunt me." She giggled and Paul relaxed, knowing that anytime his mother would eat even a normal amount of a cold milk product, her throat would fill with mucus and it would take hours of coughing it up to clear it. It wasn't an uncommon thing she did, considering she couldn't imagine _not _having ice cream and milkshakes at least once a week – 'once' as in two large glasses of vanilla milkshake or three bowls of Cookie 'n' Cream ice cream – but still, Paul never liked it when his mother would have the occasional coughing fit._

"_Okay."_

"_Paul, I'm sorry." He glanced up when she started patting his lavender locks softly._

"_For what?"_

"_You must've been disappointed when you found out I was Santa, right?"_

"_Well, I guess, but it's not like I really expected to see some a fat guy in our living room either . . . ." He shrugged, ignoring another cough from Twilight. "I just wanna know, why?"_

_She hummed a random tune for a few moments, then looked back down at Paul. "Isn't it natural for a mother to give her children something they'd love and enjoy?" She giggled at Paul's blank stare. "Besides," she added, a sly smirk slowly appearing on her face, "if I didn't, you wouldn't have any gifts on Christmas." She laughed at his mortified face._

_He pouted briefly, before something suddenly occurred to him. "But if you're really Santa, do you give yourself a gift?"_

_Twilight blinked at the fairly odd question. She coughed again. "No," she finally replied. "I don't, though Reggie usually gets me one."_

_He frowned. "But I want to give you a present too!"_

_She smiled. "You already do, Paul." She wrapped him in her arms. "Just seeing that smile on your face when you see your gifts is more than enough to make me happy."_

_Paul's eyes lit up. "So if I open a present, you'll be happy!?"_

_Twilight raised an eyebrow. "Are you just saying that so you'll get a gift now?"_

_There was a pause. "Well, I'd be lying if that wasn't part of the reason." Paul never was a liar, come to think of it. . . ._

_She sighed in defeat and glanced at the clock; 11:58 P.M. "Go ahead." A triumphant grin spread across the five-year-old's face as he leaped off Twilight's lap and to the Christmas tree. She let out a contented breath as she watched Paul eye the colorful presents, wondering which one to open now. "You know . . . " Twilight began, almost to herself. "Ever since I had you and Reggie, I've found myself wishing for the same thing every Christmas Eve. . . . "_

"_What's that?" Paul had finally picked a present; decorated in pink wrapping paper with Buneary in different poses. He picked it especially, because it was a pairing of his mother's favorite color and Pokémon. He began tearing it open._

"_That if somethi – " Her sentence was interrupted by a sudden clogging feeling in her throat. She tried coughing it out from little to no avail. The inside of her throat itched and ached as the coughs became rougher. Soon, Twilight found herself unable to stop. Her chest burned with an intense pain she couldn't begin to describe and she fell to the floor on her knees._

_Liquid began shooting out from between her fingers as her hand was covering her mouth; she removed it and found blood spilling over the edges. Her eyes widened, but snapped shut as another wave of pain tore itself apart in her chest._

_Paul had heard Twilight's soft coughs and frowned slightly, disappointed that her sentence was postponed for the moment. His attention was completely taken, however, when he opened the lid of the gift box. He forgot his surroundings and tuned everything out as his eyes set upon the Pokémon doll inside. A Turtwig doll. The Pokémon he had already fastened his heart on getting as his starter when he became a Trainer. His lips twitched and his eyes danced as he picked up the stuffed turtle toy. He knew without a doubt that this was and probably will stay as the greatest present he was ever given._

_Now he could practice being a Trainer with his first Pokémon! He'll go around the house and yard, acting like he's on his journey to become Champion of Sinnoh; he'll get some of Reggie's Pokémon to help it feel more real. Paul couldn't contain his excitement at the thoughts. Quickly, he stood up, the Turtwig doll in his arms, and spun around to his mother. "Mom, look! It's – " He stopped sharply at the sight before him._

_Twilight lay on the floor in a crumbled mess; knees bent while her feet were pressed against the base of the sofa, arms sprawled in different directions as were both her wrists, hair scattered in a frenzy –_

_No movement._

_Paul's legs shook as they walked forward with hesitant steps. He wasn't really seeing this, right? His mother wasn't on the floor in front of him. This was just a nightmare. That's it! A really scary, vivid nightmare. Paul's thoughts took an abrupt end when he felt something soak into his socks. He looked down and saw that he had stepped into a tiny spot of dark liquid. He didn't give much thought about it, however, as his eyes set upon his mother's body, only a few inches from him. With a trembling hand, Paul reached out and pushed away the navy blue hair that was covering Twilight's face, only to stop when he saw her one visible eye stare back at him._

"_M-M-Mom?" Paul clutched the Turtwig doll to his chest._

_Her eye flickered for just a second, until it stopped on him again. " . . . P-Paul. . . . " she rasped out, wheezing slightly at the end. Only then did Paul notice the same dark liquid he had stepped in was slowly dripping out of his mother's mouth, creating a tiny puddle. "I-I – " She choked on a cough. "I-I'm sorry, P-Paul. . . . I . . . I have t-to leave . . . y-you now. . . . "_

_He wasn't stupid. He knew what his mother meant; she wouldn't go this far for some joke. Nonetheless, Paul shook his head. " . . . Why?"_

_Twilight's eye saddened for a moment, but her mouth twitched closed to form a weak smile. " . . . Whatev . . . er hap . . . pens, sta . . . stay with Re . . . Reggie, o-okay?" She wheezed suddenly, her eyes wide._

"_Mom!?"_

_Her eyes flicked to him again, but remained stretched. "I-I'm . . . sorry, P . . . aul. I . . . l-love . . . " Her sentence didn't finished, and trailed off into a low wheeze. Paul's body felt frozen as he watched his mother's eye slowly fade away into some distant world. The usual twinkle that could always be found there melted into emptiness, until nothing but a lifeless eye stared back at him._

"_Mom?" Again, Paul reached out his free hand touched Twilight hair. When he got no response, he touched her forehead. Still no response. "Mom? Mom? Mom!?" He was shaking her shoulder now, but the body remained limp and lifeless. "MOM!"_

_After what seemed like an eternity, Paul finally stood up, his Turtwig still in his arms. As much as the despair and sorrow took over him, Paul didn't cry. His eyes didn't even sting. He didn't know why. He should be crying; he wanted to, yet no tears came. When his eyes laid on Twilight once more, however, Paul found that his body would only allow him to do one thing._

_He screamed. Again and again. Until his vocal cords couldn't take much more, but even then, he continued to scream._

_12:05 A.M. Christmas Day._

Dawn continued to stare at the sixteen-year-old, unable to think as Paul held the box with unsteady hands. Reggie had informed her earlier about their mother, who died of lung cancer Twilight didn't even know she had. So it wasn't just because of Reggie's Frontier lost. . . . Now Dawn understood why Paul was always so closed off and irritable, and felt a little bad about yelling at him all those times.

Even before hearing the story, Dawn was determined to work hard on fixing the worn toy by the next day, hoping to get Paul to enjoy Christmas again; but now, seeing him not even attempting to touch it, she couldn't help but have second thoughts. . . . "P-Paul . . . ?"

He lifted his dark eyes to her puzzled and slightly anxious face and glared. " . . . Reggie told you?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, yes." Paul's glare hardened. His brother really didn't care about _private_, family matters, did he? "But I wanted to fix it before I even heard the story!"

" . . . Why?"

Dawn blinked. "Why? Because! That doll is like a memento from your mom, right?" Paul's hand flinched slightly, but it was camouflaged by the trembling. "Reggie told me how you treasured it and used to take it everywhere with you, but had to leave it behind when you traveled with him during his Frontier journey, because it got too fragile. I thought if I would fix it, you'd remember the joy of Christmas! Reggie thought so to – "

"_Reggie _needs to learn how to shut up!" Paul snapped. "And you need to learn how to stop meddling into other people's lives!"

The blunette felt her own anger starting to build up. "Meddling!? I was trying to help, Paul! Can you blame me for wanting to help you?"

His grip on the box tightened. "Yes! I don't need your help! I never needed any help to begin with! Stop trying to 'help' when you don't even know anything!"

"I know that your mother is probably hurt right now because her son keeps pushing everyone away!" Dawn's eyes stung, but she refused to cry. "Do you think she's happy about that?"

"What do you know about my mother, huh? You've never even met her! Why can't you just leave me alone!?" Paul swung his arm in an angry gesture, forgetting all about the present in his hand. The doll flew out of the box and into the snow.

Dawn's hands were placed over her mouth as a loud gasp escaped her. She gazed at the old doll a few meters away, half of its body covered in the white snow. She looked at Paul, who was also staring at it, but then turned his head away to look down at his shoes. Her hands went to her sides as they clenched into trembling fists. She took deep breaths to calm herself, but it only seemed to anger her more.

Paul was aware of footsteps walking towards him. He inwardly sighed before lifting his head to see what Troublesome had to say now; he was surprised a fierce slap awaited him instead, that made his head turn to the right. Paul clutched his burning cheek with one hand, and looked up at the girl, his head still lowered slightly.

He was met with a trembling, red-faced Dawn. Tears streamed down her cheeks in a frenzy, and she didn't bother to wipe them. "H-How can you be s-so mean, Paul?" she spoke in a broken whisper. She looked at him with defeat in her eyes, then took off back into the house without another word.

Paul stayed in the same position for a while longer. No kind of emotion was in him. No anger, no sadness, nothing. Just . . . this numbness he couldn't explain. Maybe it was from the cold, maybe not. Eventually, Paul sighed and walked to the spot where the doll fell. He kneeled down and dusted the snow off, then gently picked it up. His hand glided down the fabric in long strokes.

"_I know that your mother is probably hurt right now because her son keeps pushing everyone away!"_ Dawn's words played in his head, though he couldn't understand why it made him flinch every time he thought about it. _"Do you think she's happy about that?"_

Suddenly, his heart ached. _"Just seeing that smile on your face when you see your gifts is more than enough to make me happy."_ His mother's words rang in his ears as clear as they had all those years ago.

He stopped in mid-stroke, when something caught his eye. A corner of a piece of paper stook out from inside the box, which he had put down beside him. He picked up the paper and unfolded it.

_Hey, Paul._

_I know what you're thinking: 'Why in the name of Arceus is Troublesome giving me a present?' Well, A) My name is Dawn! And B) For some reason, I tend to give presents even to people I don't particularly like, so . . . yeah. Plus, I was in the neighborhood. That's why. :3_

_Or at least, that's the way it started out. . . . Reggie told me how there was this Turtwig doll you treasured as a little boy, and that you were devastated when it had to be left behind when it was time to travel; also, how you weren't always so cranky all the time. I was so shocked. 'What!?' I thought. 'Paul actually used to be nice – or, at least decent to be around!? And he was like that fairly recently?' Then it got me thinking, 'Would Paul like it if I fixed the doll up? Would that cheer him up? Maybe he could take it with him again!' I wanted to give it a try, so Reggie gave it me to work on._

_At that point, I wasn't just giving you a gift because that's what I do; I _wanted _to give it to you . . . in hopes that you'd smile again. After all, all I've ever seen from you was that infamous scowl and the occasional creepy smirk._

_I want to start over. I want to get to know you as a friend, not enemy. And I am NOT just saying that._

_But either way, whether you say yes to the idea or not, I just want you to enjoy your refurbished gift. :)_

_~ Dawn – or if I must, 'Troublesome'_

Paul didn't know how many different thoughts ran through his mind as he read the note; most them consisted of cursing Reggie, some felt a bit insulted at the blunette's negative image of him, and at some point he raised an eyebrow. What made Troublesome think he'd start carrying around a toy again? He was a kid back then! He blinked at the end of the note. _' . . . In hopes you'd smile again.'_

"_Just seeing that smile on your face. . . ."_ Scene's suddenly flashed before him. The funeral that happened a week after Twilight's death; her dead body lying on the living room floor, blood soaking into the carpet; the stretcher the ambulance loaded into the truck. . . . Throughout all that, he had never cried once, and the years following. But as the images faded, Paul found his eyes welling with tears, and before he could stop it, the tears ran down his cheeks in full force.

What could he do? He never cried in his life. His body screamed in a shaking sorrow he couldn't control. The only thing he could do was hold onto the Turtwig doll, until he finally stopped crying.

* * *

Dawn sniffed for what seemed like the thousandth time as she sat on the sofa, her hands somewhat gripping her knees, which were bent to her chest. She didn't know how long she sat there until the front door opened. She tensed and gripped her knees harder as she heard footsteps walk through the short hall. She relaxed again when the steps faded, but only tensed up again when the sofa suddenly moved. Dawn looked to her right, then widened her eyes at Paul, who sat at the other end of the couch, one arm resting comfortably on the armrest while the other held the Turtwig doll; he stared down at the coffee table.

The two sat in a long silence. Dawn didn't know what to say, or if she _should _say anything. Her anger was still fresh, but didn't think a second slap to his face would go over as well as the first. _But why is he even here?_ she wondered. As much as she wanted him out of her sight, the curiosity of his being there rivaled it.

She snapped out of her thoughts when Paul broke the silence and mumbled something. "Uh, what was that?" she asked.

He sighed. " . . . I said, 'Thanks.'"

Dawn blinked blankly. _Did I hear him right?_ "Um . . . for what exactly?"

Paul shrugged. "For fixing Turtwig, and . . . for helping me to finally get over my mother's death," he almost whispered the last part.

"Oh. . . . " was all she could say, though she scolded herself for it. Luckily, she didn't have to say something else, for Paul continued.

"I needed to come to terms with it, but I was avoiding it all this time." Paul sighed again. He refused to talk about his feelings and other sappy things girls did, but in some areas, it was hard for him to completely avoid it. "If . . . if it wasn't for you . . . I don't think I could've moved on. So . . . thanks."

Dawn's heart swelled, and all her anger suddenly evaporated into thin air. Never had she believed the day would come when grumpy, old Paul would thank her for helping him. She had to take a second to make sure this was real, and not a dream. "Um . . . anytime?" she replied in a questioned tone.

Again, they sat in silence, until once more, Paul broke it. " . . . You remind me of her."

"Huh?"

"Of my mother. She had blue hair and was always cheerful." He glanced at Dawn at the corner of his eye. "She could also have quite the temper."

Dawn gasped, offended. She opened her mouth, but Paul interrupted before a sound could come out. "She also went out of her way to give to others . . . and her name was also a time of day: Twilight." He paused. "Maybe that's why I always gave you such a hard time . . . Dawn."

Her head whipped around so fast, Paul was surprised she was still alive. Dawn's eyes were wide and sparkling. "You finally remembered my name!"

Paul scoffed and turned away. Footsteps suddenly came now the stairs, followed by a yawn. The two looked back to find Reggie wiping sleep from his eyes. "Why's everyone up so late?" he asked. He began another yawn, but stopped when he caught sight of the doll on Paul's lap, and smiled. "Present time already?"

Paul chuckled and glanced at the clock. 12:30 A.M. "Yeah. Merry Christmas, Reggie." The edges of his mouth twitched upwards as he look back down at the doll.

'_No matter what happens in the near future or beyond, may both my children remember to smile.'_

_**~*The End*~**_

* * *

_Merry Christmas, everyone! I hope you've enjoyed the fic!_


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